Hold My Hand
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: AU. It's the year 1974- Hayami Masumi's car breaks down in front of a Chinese Resturant. Because of that one and million chance, he meets twelve-year-old Kitajima Maya first. Eventual Masumi & Maya. Rated M for mentions of abuse and dark themes. Please read and review.
1. A Small Chance

**A Small Chance**

 _17 December 1974*_

Hayami Masumi was in a bit of a jam, he thought with a little bit of humor. A little bit of odd mirth that hardly ever struck him. Humor, because it had been months since he had taken a break- it all it had taken was for his car to break down in the middle of a city he had never been in, Yokohama, out of the way and completely off the radar from his Tokyo domain. He had come there because there had been a rumor, that the infamous Black Lady, Tsukikage Chigusa, was looking into buying a resident in the more affluent parts of the city. He had come to Yokohama to stake out any potential homes and put in the process of buying them if she planned to rent and become her landlord, or at least keep on eye on the wily old thing. While he had never personally met the woman, his father's obsession, and subsequent madness over the issue of the rights to the play, Crimson Goddess, assured him that he would be at least visiting the area with some frequency in the future. And that the old woman would become a thorn in his side as she had been to his adopted father.

It had started simple enough- a need to take a detour because of some construction- a bit of sputter of the engine, and his panicked driver slamming on the breaks as the engine started to smoke. It was a million and one chance that his car, expensive and the year's newest model, would break down.

But it did, and it left him stranded in the middle of Yokohama.

His driver, kept apologizing, even as he had jumped out into the bitter cold without hesitation. Masumi always employed the best, always employed those of which he knew would be loyal to him. But, after about twenty minutes, the car, off and without its heater, had started to get cold. Irritated, and feeling off with his inactivity, Masumi stepped out to smoke a cigarette and to stretch his legs, pulling on his thick winter coat and stuffing his hands into his fine leather gloves. It was really cold, and even with a hit of nicotine and warmth of the smoke crawling down and poisoning his lungs. His carphone* didn't have a signal, and by looking around the neighborhood, he suspected it had something to do with a lack of towers in the area. He sighed, taking a deeper inhale of his smooth cigarette.

"Hayami-sama, I really am sorry," said his driver, a young man just a year or so younger than him, that had just recently been assigned to him. He bows his head, quickly, dress shirt rolled up despite the cold, his fingers red and covered in grime, "I should have the car ready in twenty minutes if you can just step back into the car-"

Masumi allowed him to apologize before the driver went back to his work, without bothering to counter that it hadn't been his fault.

And it was still freezing, being December, inside the car or not. And he knew he had to find somewhere to sit out the snowfall that had just started until the car was working again. On a whim, and because he was hungry, Masumi dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it underneath his heel. He headed into the Chinese restaurant his car had broken down in front of, wondering if he should ask to use their phone.

It was a terribly small place, the hostess, an older, hard-looking woman, greeted him with a smile that looked like it had been chipped onto her severe face. The restaurant was nothing like the five-star places he frequented, but with not much else around, he made his way to the counter. He ignored how the old wooden beams creaked beneath his feet, or how the walls were covered in bright, but faded images of the food and various traditional signs.

"Welcome, sir," said the cook, an older man with a slight hesitation upon looking at him, from his designer shoes to his carefully arranged hair, "What can I get for you?"

Masumi took a cursory glance at the menu and was honest enough to see that he had never had anything remotely on the menu. He didn't think he had ever had ramen, and if he had, it had been before his adoption into the Hayami family. Too 'coarse' and 'unrefined' for his adopted father's palette. He hummed, opened his mouth-

"I recommend the miso!" said a chipper voice, and Masumi started, turned towards the loud, boisterous voice.

It was a girl. Painfully plain and no, more than twelve, he thought and she turned beet red as she took him in. She wore an apron and shyness- ducking her head as he looked at her. She was short and thin, with frightfully small hands. Strangely enough, he found himself smiling, it felt odd on his face, because it was genuine, not at all like the smiles that he was forced to make with an investor or an overzealous actress hanging on his arm. It was a small smile, a little funny because of his lack of practice, but _genuine_.

"The miso?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hesitantly, the girl looked up, her light brown eyes were wide, soft looking and terribly expressive. She gave him a smile, just a small upturn of her lips.

"Y-y-yes. It's my favorite ramen," she said, much more subdued, but with a soft honesty.

Blinking, his smile widening unconsciously on his face, he turned to the cook.

"Two bowls of the miso it is then. I was wondering if you had a phone? My car broke down, and while my driver is resolving the issue, I need to call my office."

"Of course, sir. Maya-chan, would you take the man to the phone?"

"Yes, sir," said the girl, Maya, bobbing her head up and down in a comically fast way, her hair, black and a little rough looking from lack of care, flew this way and that due to its movement, "This way!"

Nodding to the cook, Masumi filled behind the girl trying to suppress the odd urge to laugh at the fact that she was two heads shorter than him. Mitsugu*'s girl, who was the same age, was significantly taller than the girl. She walked in an inelegant way that made him want to chuckle as well- nearly but not stomping her feet as she went- something that he never really saw. Too used to high heeled actresses and well-stepped men in suits. The girl was the epitome of the unrefined, he thought with a faint nod when she showed him the phone, beaming at him in a strangely charming way.

Despite the rest of her, she had clean, even teeth, and an open happy smile without guile or reason beyond her joy. He turned to the phone and quickly called the office to arrange a second car if he had not returned in two hours, and for his secretary, Mizuki, to push back any meetings if the same occurred. Satisfied, Masumi went to make his way back and was stopped because the girl, Maya, was frozen in the middle of the hallway.

Confused, and almost concerned he made his way around to look at the girl's face and sees that her face is incredibly intent. Her eyes are assessing, but dazed, her face relaxed and her small mouth parted flushed skin. Following her gaze, he realizes that the girl is completely immersed in a television show, a drama from his company in fact, to the point that she looks besotted. She is peeking through a slightly opened rice-paper door.

"AGH!" screams a voice, and he is completely surprised by the scowling face of a fifteen or so year old girl, plain, but flashy with bleached* curly hair and heavily make-upped and freckled face, "MAYA'S PEEPING AGAIN, WHAT A BAD KID!"

With that, the paper door slams shut, and Maya's shoulders, small and slightly shaking in fright at the scream from the older girl's, falls in dismay.

"Like dramas than, Chibi-chan?" he asked, and the nickname falls from his lips easily and in a way that startles him.

The girl turns, eyes wide.

"My name isn't chibi!' she says indignantly, stomping her foot, "It's Kitajima Maya!"

He smirks at how the shy girl flounders as she realizes she yelled at him- a customer. He takes it with surprising grace, unused to anyone standing up to him in any capacity, so used to anyone bowing down in the wake of his name, his face, his cool attitude. In fact- in fact, he thought it was sort of hilarious.

"Pleased nice to meet you, Kitajima Maya, I'm Hayami Masumi, and unless you're taller than this," he gestured way above her head, somewhere along his nose height, "Then you're definitely a chibi."

The girl's cheeks puff out, and again, Masumi is struck by how expressive her face is.

"I'll grow to be that big," she says, hands twisting together.

"Maybe. And you never did answer my question," he prompts.

"Huh?"

"Do you like dramas?"

The answer, while along of what he had expected, blows him away.

"Yes, and movies! I adore them! I don't know why… But whenever I see a drama or a movie… It feels like I go into a trance," said Maya, eyes wide and her pale face flushing, "I feel like I _am_ one of the characters I feel as if I'm not my ordinary self, but _one_ of those characters on the show. It's… makes me feel wonderful."

It was an impassioned speech, the girl was practically brimming with her enthusiasm, her fingertips twisting and her eyes sparkling with her explanation. And it was utterly showed how much the girl disliked herself, and the level of escapism that Masumi found himself envying. Because it was what he couldn't afford, he could never indulge in. What an odd girl, he thought, a smile of sheer surprise appearing on his lips.

"That's nice, chibi-chan," he said, a startled chuckle escaping his lips as she scowled at him, and he let out another as he ruffled her hair and got a howl of indignation, "Never forget a love like that. It can so easily be taken away."

With that, she stomped away, huffing and red from her embarrassment, but strangely, she turned back and gave him a smile. It was just a quick turn back, but her smile- her smile was bright and true. Again, Masumi found himself jealous of this small, twelve-year-old girl in this nowhere Chinese restaurant, because she hadn't lost what he had lost when his mother had married Hayami. Innocent and happy at something as simple as a drama or movie. Masumi sighed, before he made his way outside, calling his driver inside to eat something warm and ignore the car for even a little bit. The young man was flustered, but accepted to eat with him, flushing and nervous as he ate.

Masumi was a little alarmed when Maya was the one to serve them, a young girl their waitress, but as he looked at her well-used clothes and her all-around attitude, he knew that the girl was not from a well off family. He felt a bit of pity, but put it out of his mind. He just simply ate his meal(surprised by how delicious it was, even if it wasn't something he would have thought to eat himself), warm and filling. His driver, after guzzling down his meal, had gone out to the car, and come back just as he finished, saying that the car would get them to office before he took it to the shop. Masumi paid, and made sure to tip the girl very well.

As he made his way out, he turned back at a loud cry to see that Maya had started to cry, beaming in his direction, clutching her large tip to her chest. Masumi actually stumbled, because he had never had anyone smile at him in sheer, unfiltered _thankfulness_.

"THANK YOU HAYAMI-SAN!" the girl cried, face flushed, tears leaking from her eyes.

 _Damn she can project her voice._

"Have a nice day, chibi-chan!" he called back, chuckling slightly.

Masumi walked out, a small smile on his face all the way back to Tokyo.

* * *

 **AN:** **I do not own Glass Mask, or Garsu no Kamen in any sense. It's universe, characters all belong to its AMAZING creator, Suzue Miuchi, its publishing and broadcasting companies.**

 **This is me, playing in its sandbox, making misshapen sandcastles.**

 **This is seriously one of the most underrated manga that I know of in the States- it is such a damn shame that it has yet to be released in English officially. I would buy _all_ of the manga in a gosh-darn heartbeat if it was in English. Even though my Japanese is minimal and mostly on the spoken side, I would defiantly wouldn't mind buying it in the original language either. It is just that damn good. Thanks on a whim, I looked up to see what fanfiction it had and saw it has a dismal amount if all relatively well written. This is my attempt at a fanfiction.**

 ***1: This AU takes place a year before the start of the manga. Which I pegged as starting in 1975 in December, and continuing into 1976 because that was the year it was first published.**

 ***2: It is 1974, and commercial car phones were the closest thing we get to a cellphone at the time. They were, however, very expensive and relied on towers that most cities at the time just didn't have. Especially in a smaller area like Yokohama.**

 ***3: Ayumi's father.**

 ***4: So, most people in Japan have darker colored hair(with exceptions of Masumi and Ayumi, which I always figured had soft brown hair, Ayumi even lighter side but not too much cause she is Japanese guys), but a popular thing for the kiddies is to bleach it to turn it lighter. I always imagine that the girl, Sugiko, the daughter of the Resturant owners was totally the type to bleach her hair.**

 **~Happy Reading,**

 **Moon Witch '96**


	2. Burning Deep Inside of Her

**Burning Deep Inside Her**

 _20 December 1974_

Kitajima Maya was more than a little happy, a couple days after that kind man, Hayami-san, had given her that ridiculously enormous and exaggeratedly generous tip. She has a feeling, that most of it was out of pity, or maybe it was because a rich man like that(his fine suit and coat were really hard to miss in the drab surroundings) that usually tipped like that and had no frame of reference of a reasonable one. She had stashed it away, hidden it in a loose floorboard in hopes of being able to buy her mother something nice for her birthday. And mostly because Maya had no idea what to do with so much money. Why the man had thought that 88,200 * yen was a normal amount to give to a young waitress, was beyond her.

She hopes, faintly, that she would see him again, not because of the tip, but because he had _listened_ to her, looked remarkably interested in whatever idiotic thing she had said. She wonders, briefly, why such an older, rich and incredibly handsome man had listened to her. She doesn't know but is grateful all the same. Because for the first time, Maya had said something that hadn't been shot down- that hadn't been laughed off or dismissed for being so _stupid_. She hadn't realized how _nice_ that could be, for someone to just _listen_ to her. Because Hayami-san had done just that- he had been looking directly at her, dark eyes intent, handsome, chiseled face open and interested as she explained why she loves movies and tv. He hadn't rolled his eyes. He hadn't told her to put aside her likes because it would lead to nowhere- no, the man had ruffled her hair- annoying and _completely_ rude, but it had been done in a gesture of reassurance. Startling affection.

 _Never forget a love like that. It can be easily taken away._

Maya wondered, what a handsome, obviously very rich and successful man like Hayami Masumi, had lost. Because that simple statement- oh that simple statement- told Maya that _he_ had lost a love like her's, and while she understood how useless loving TV and movies was, she would _didn't_ want to give it up. Because it was one of the things that was only her's, the only thing that didn't show her how stupid she was*, how much of a burden she was to her poor mother.

"Maya!" snaps her mother, eyes narrowed, quickly.

Maya shucks off her school shoes*( _tight, pinched, half a size too small but her mother couldn't afford a new one_ ), rushing forward in her socks, cringing at the anger she sees in her mother's face. Even though it was a frequent face, Maya _hated_ upsetting her mother.

"Yes, Mama?" she said, desperately trying not to cringe as her mother stared her down.

Her mother was far from amused- face pinched, mouth pulling sharply at the frown lines around her otherwise young face, brows furrowed down angrily over her dark eyes. Maya was more than a little out of breath, having run about the last mile in her route to and from school, flexing her toes in sheer relief at the loss of pressure her too small shoes gave her.

"Where have you been, you should have been here hours ago!"

Maya thinks about the kids in the park, that had been eager to hear new stories. They're like her, without TVs and with ways of being entertained other than playing. The first time she had told a story, their moms' had thanked her( _simple pleasure on their faces, grabbing at elementary children who were quiet for once_ )- the kids had begged and begged for more each time she dashed through the park on the way home from school. Sometimes even when she was going to school and they were on their way to theirs. It wasn't really odd to see Maya going to school with a lot of little kids hanging off of her arms or legs, climbing on her back as they begged for a story. If not on top of her, the children had a habit of trailing after her like ducklings following their mother. It had gotten to the point that a lot of their mother's had asked Maya to take care of them on the way to school, which was why she was often late to her morning class. Herding a bunch of five to eleven-year-olds was no easy feat for one twelve-year-old.

It was just a series of habits that had started. Maya could never bring herself to tell to tell the kids that so adoringly called her 'onee-chan', nor the tired looking mothers peppering her with little treats and thank you notes for taking a chore off of their shoulders by escorting the kids to school*. And sometimes Maya lost track of time. She could never afford a watch*.

"I lost track of time," she says, cringing as her mother clicks in disgust. She is shaking her head, frowns pinching further in her upset.

"Not only are you plain, but stupid! Oh, if only you weren't like your father! Get upstairs and dress for your shift. You're working until closing today because of your tardiness. I had to cover more than half of your shift!"

Maya blinks, hurt and dreading the homework in her backpack, but nods, making her way upstairs. She changes as quickly as she can, slipping into a worn, warm sweater and skirt. Carefully, she hangs her only uniform, making a note to ask her mother to fix the seam on her shirt(Maya herself could never really do it herself, as she was clumsy and often her mother lost patience and snatched whatever she was doing to do it _properly*_ ), before she grabs her work shoes and makes her way into the restaurant. She grabs her apron and forces a smile on her face. The owners give her a hard look as she sets about busing tables and taking orders, giving them up with as much cheer as she could. The night passes with its usual boring routine, a constant run between the ten tables and the counter, both hands with trays, ignoring the slightly drunk men as they hoot and holler, ignoring the jabbering housewives that look down on her old shoes and carefully repaired skirt, ignoring the irate customers that just want to make trouble because they can. When Sugiko-san comes in around eight make-up slightly smeared around her mouth, and wearing a sour expression and the apron for working around the restaurant, Maya shucks off her own apron and goes behind the counter, already reaching for a full delivery boxes, two, and quickly noting the addresses before she gives a nod to the cook, and goes off into the dark night.

It is around two in the morning that Maya finally makes it upstairs after sweeping and closing up the restaurant, chucking off her work shoes, and carefully removing her work clothes, folding them neatly and evenly on her part of the shared dresser. Her eyes are already closing as she drops onto the shared futon with her mother, on top, not even bothering to grab her pajamas that night, before she forces herself awake, and reaches for her homework. Luckily for her, it was Saturday tomorrow, and she only had a half* day of school, so she didn't have to worry about Japanese Classical literature, gym, English, or biology. She could push those off until, at the latest, her lunchtime on Monday, if not, Sunday. She gets to work on her math, tongue poking out until she finishes every last bit of the work.

It's a mess of confusing numbers- formulas half-remembered. But Maya works through it, sharpening her pencils with a blade* carefully, knicking herself only twice in both her tiredness and usual bout of clumsiness. It's five by the time that Maya finishes, no doubt having made a poor effort, but too glad to be finished in the first place to care too much.

It's six when her mother is shaking her awake, scolding her for not wearing proper clothes to bed and that if she catches a cold it will be her own fault. Maya, half awake, meekly takes her scolding with nods and several sleepy 'sorry Mamas', before she dresses in her uniform, quickly using some safety pins to close the small hole in her shirt as her mother had yet to fix it. She is already putting on her too small shoes, a piece of burnt toast clutched in her teeth as she ran out, stopping by each of the kids in her neighborhood who were chattering excitedly and begging for a story.

Finally, Maya felt a smile, a real one, come on her lips for the first time in nearly a day. She beamed at the children, lifting her slightly stiff and aching limbs and allowing two of her youngest 'ducklings' swing from her thin arms. She doesn't wince at the ten-kilogram weights at all or the way the ache deepened at their actions. The kids were giggling too hard for Maya to put them down.

"So you want a story?"

A chorus of pleas, of 'oh please onee-chan' fill her ears, and requests come around, children giggling and laughing with her. Pleading eyes, bright and innocent of little kids, surround her.

"Okay, so, do you want me to pick off where I left off or a new story?"

"Oh, where you left off yesterday in the park, Onee-chan!"

Smiling wider, Maya complies. Because Hayami-san said…

 _Never forget a love like that. It can be easily taken away._

And now, Maya intended never to do it.

* * *

 **AN: I do not own Garsu no Kamen in any sense. It's universe, characters all belong to its AMAZING creator, Suzue Mizuchu, its publishing and broadcasting companies.**

 **This is me, playing in its sandbox, making misshapen sandcastles.**

 **I should be doing history research damn it, I need to make a presentation to do but NO it has to be in the 70s and made me think of this... And now I'm horribly behind. Curse the, my beautiful Muse! Anyway, gosh was Maya much harder to write. Masumi was much more jaded and cynical, while I myself am jaded and cynical. Maya's optimism was hard... Her self-esteem issues, made this chapter a bit better to write, however. I apologize if it seems a little off for a twelve-year-old. It's been nine years since I've been one and it's hard to get into that mindset. I also wrote a lot less- but it felt like a good place to cut off here. I'm sorry if anyone expected Masumi again, but, this is a slow burn. And I'm sort of following the Manga by keeping their interactions fairly sparse for the first few 'months' of this fic. But fear not my lovely readers, they will see each other the chapter after the next. The next chapter is a Masumi's turn to show us his normal day, and the chapter after that is from Maya's POV seeing Masumi again. I plan on keeping an alternating POV between Maya and Masumi, with a few alternate POVs coming in once and a while, but within a chapter where one or the other is the principal POV. Properly Maya's mother or Suigiko for now, as the other characters won't matter until canon events start happening which is chronologically about a year away.**

 **1*: Roughly thirty dollars, though the exchanged rate was taken not from 1974 but rather 1975, as that was the farthest back I could find. Also, 30 bucks was a lot in 1974.**

 **2*: Maya isn't stupid. This is a girl that memorizes _entire_ plays and people's expressions and movements in a single three-hour viewing. She is more than likely highly intelligent when it comes to things that she loves/is driven to do. She just has a very low opinion of herself, and really has no drive before she started acting. I always thought that in combination to working as a waitress, and her mother and a lot of people putting her down, she struggles to do anything. Confidence can really affect how a person learns and behaves in a highly structured environment like school, especially at such a young age.**

 **Because hormones are a bitch.**

 **3*: Shoes typical to Japan uniforms are expensive, usually made out of leather even today, and Maya is from a single-parent household in the 1970s. She most likely can only afford a pair every two years, if that.**

 **4*: Maya is such a sweetheart. And I needed to give her a little lightness around all the horribleness that is her early life. She always seems to get along with kids throughout the manga, and in the first volume, another mother knows her by name. Even if the Yokohama district is really small at the time of the manga, I always assumed that she had a relationship with some of the mothers in the neighborhood. After all, we see her entertaining kids in the park when she grabs Tsukiga's attention. I just expanded on that because Maya needs some _good._**

 **5*: Digital watches were in the market by 1970, but were fairly expensive. All watches were, really, and we don't see anyone with them other than the characters that are fairly wealthy, to begin with, like Masumi, Mitsuki, and Ayumi(properly branded too!).**

 **6*: Again, any time we see Maya do something, her mother screams at her for doing it wrong, and calls her useless and stupid, instead of teaching her how to do it correctly. I seriously think that Maya's mother gave Maya some serious phycological issues when it comes to her self-esteem and prevents her from learning how to do things. A lot of people struggle with how to do things when they don't know the proper way of doing things- Once we see Maya with a mentor, with any semblance of attention and praise, even Tsukagi who is a fucking taskmaster and more than a little abusive, Maya _blooms_. Maya's mother never really gives the poor girl a chance. To bitter about the death of her husband/and or baby-daddy(never really explicitly said in the manga) who, by implication, looks and acts a lot like her father.**

 **7*: Most Japanese schools have a six-day week- or really five and a half, using Saturdays for half day lessons and club activities for the latter half of the day. I know... The horror of not having a Saturday!**

 **8*: Sharpeners as we know it today, were not invented till... The early 80s I want to say(do not quote me on that)? At least I know that in the 70s using a blade was fairly common to do it, and in the manga proper, we can see Maya doing it.**

 **Please read and review my lovelys- the two who have done so made my days c:**

 **~Happy Reading,**

 **Moon Witch '96**


	3. Cool Fire

**Cool Fire**

 _22 December 1974_

Masumi was smiling, cooly, as his adopted father spoke, watching with interest as his large, weathered hands tightened on the cushioned leather of his wheelchair's armrest. The board meeting, which was impromptu and on Hayami's whim- they nearly always were, as the President was hardly in good enough health to attend the ones that Masumi scheduled- was filled with people who looked tense and uneasy. Most of these meetings were like this, as Hayami was a shrewd, cold and effective businessman… Or, well, he had been, but the fall of his physical health had led a clearer picture of the company of his shaky mental health. It was more or less an unspoken rule that though Masumi held the title of vice-president, he was the one truly in charge of most of the daily operations of the company, that he had long taken the reigns from his adopted father who only held weight because he still had the majority shares in the company.

The only tell that Masumi was any sort of upset was the fact that he had a cigarette half finished in one hand, or the fact that Mizuki, his security, was shifting uneasily from foot to foot in her place somewhere a few feet away from his right shoulder. She was a worrier, that Saeko Mizuki and Masumi wondered if the woman with the constant light sensitivity* was a little too invested in his well being. At first, like many still assumed, he had thought that the otherwise professional woman wanted to sleep with him for some sort of advantage in the company. When he realized that she made no such passes, he had thought she was a spy for her father.

When he realized that the young woman genuinely cared for him, he thought her in love with him.

It had been awkward, to come to that realization- he was a few years younger then her and well aware that he was more than a little apathetic and though he had had his share of relationships, he had never felt anything akin to _love_ in his 'romances', which was why he had stopped pursuing women early in his college career. Call him cold or unfeeling, but he hadn't really seen a point, and just figured Hayami would find him some sort of match-making service down the line and that would be that. Mizuki being in love with him made him feel odd, touched, to some degree, but also morose at the thought of losing a good employee for his more than immature* reaction to want to be as far away from the woman as possible.

When she scolded him for missing a meal for the ten thousandth time, five years into their professional relationship, he realized that she was in no way in love with him, what with her disgruntled face and rolling eyes behind her dark lenses, but rather saw herself as his _friend_ , of all things. And in the same moment, that he saw her as one of the few people at Daito that he saw as completely in his corner, with no agenda related to his father or for herself other than to pay her bills and work well, and that he indeed, saw her as a friend back. She was an extension of him, his eyes and ears amongst the general staff and highly efficient secretary. If she nagged him, on occasion, like the nosey harpy that she was, to take better care of himself, that was their business and theirs alone. If he, on occasion, had her eat lunch with him as they bitch and moaned about the idiots in the company, or forced her to attend a premiere with him when he was desperate to stay as far away from whichever vapid starlet was starring in whatever production, that was also their business.

He sucked in some more of his cigarette, somewhere in the back of his mind telling himself to pace his last few inhales so that his father wouldn't be alerted to the damn fact that Masumi was impatient with his ramblings of a forceful takeover of other, smaller but popular production houses. _Hayami was all taking and conquer,_ he thought, nodding thankfully when Mizuki, the busybody, refilled his empty black coffee, and no thought for the future. Masumi was more interested in the growth aspect and maintaining investments than mowing down the competition. Too much effort, too little profit as there was always someone else waiting in the wings to take someone's place. But finding the new, instead of taking the old was his area of expertise, his claim to fame in comparison to his step-father.

The only exception, Masumi found, was the production rights to _The Crimson Goddess*_. He would take his father's greatest and oldest obsession, and be the one to conquer it. A true victory that would show that Masumi was not just a poor adopted boy that held any position through nepotism. And, more then a little of a fuck you to his crazed step-parent for being not being as good as Masumi- for he would be winning both the woman that had haunted his beloved Mother's marriage(over, not as an object of carnal desire, of course, the woman was nearly in her fifties at this point), and the play that was slowly and surely destroying his adopted father's last grasp on sanity.

He finished his cigarette, not bothering to light another as he sipped at his bitter coffee, watching apathetically as Hayami closed up the last few points he wanted to cover in this meeting before his health failed him again. As every board member made their way out, Masumi stood, gesturing with an economic gesture for Mizuki to follow, only for his adopted father's raspy, tired voice to stop him:

"Masumi."

Masumi didn't freeze, didn't so much as blink. Annoyed, but not showing it, he turned to his adopted father. Gleaming, dark, dark eyes stared at him from a slightly weathered face. He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, gleaming white things in stark contrast to his swallow gums and puckered covered face.

"Father?" he intoned, smoothly, allowing Mizuki to gather his leather suitcase.

Hayami narrowed his eyes, clutching at his armrests as his aid rolled him towards Masumi.

"What progress do you have to show me about Chisuga?" he rasped, and like always, part of Masumi felt a faint tint of disgust at the possessive tone and informal way his father addressed the old actress. But like always, he shoved aside, regarding his stepfather in a well-practiced look of disinterest and a placid face of obedience.

"I've made inquiries around home-owners and sellers. I also made sure to snap up as much real estate that would fit her usual taste under a series of shell companies," he started boredly, ignoring the way his adopted father's grin widen or how he leaned forward in sheer eagerness, "And I'm also in the process of finding where she is currently. So far, it seems that she is heading to live in Yokohama, but for what purpose, I've yet to find. Her description and that of her butler's is out and will be reported back to us if our intelligence is correct."

"Good, good," muttered the old man, slumping into his fine, leather padded chair, "She's tried so many times to avoid us. This time she will see… You, at first. She won't associate you with me. That pretty face that you have will trick her… Just like that damn playwright's. We'll ease her into it. Approach her well, Masumi. And when you have the rights to the play… She will know who she has sold herself to. She will be finally… _Mine._ "

Masumi nods but internally decides that he will do no such thing. His quest is not tricking an actress well past her prime for his step-father's obsessive lust. But rather his own ambition to bring the older woman to heel. He _will_ be the one to produce the play. He doesn't give a damn if the woman still owns the script rights* or who plays the fabled, almost mystical Crimson Goddess- rather he is interested in his name, Hayami Masumi being credited in its production, the only that has a touch of this old man in front of him is the surname that gave Masumi president as a 'member' of an old family. Nothing else of his step-father would ever touch this play.

He will own _The Crimson Goddess_ , turn the obsessive fire that ruined his mother's happiness into his own triumph. His own quiet victory and revenge a man that had allowed his mother to waste away while he chased after a frankly uninterested woman with a fever that destroyed his mind.

"Yes father," he muttered, giving him a cool smile that did not reach his eyes, never with this man, "I will handle everything perfectly."

He was dismissed with a coughing fit, both he and Mizuki leaving with cool and blank expressions as his adopted father was carted back to his estate and his oxygen mask. It wasn't until they reached the sanctuary of his office that Mizuki's face lost its stone qualities, her thin mouth parting and her perfectly plucked eyebrow lifting. She gently placed his briefcase on his desk, lounging easily on the top of his desk as Masumi dropped into his own chair with grace and procession, his own stiff face relaxing.

"How much of his plans are we redacting?"

"More than half," he barked, opening his case and looking over his notes of the presentation, "It just isn't feasible to enact so many takeovers at once. And more than a quarter of them he proposed are to production companies we actually have good partnerships with. We'll lose too much face if we go through with them. Send the memos to the department heads. Though keep the list of the talent he pointed out, run it through finance and see if buying out their contracts are worth an investment. "

"Yes sir," said Mizuki, flipping through her notes, "What about the directors he wanted to hire?"

"Ask the ones we have, which ones are old hacks that he half-remembers and which ones can mesh with our current set of divas."

It was a huge industry secret that it was really the directors that had the most power beyond the directing production house. Masumi knew the consequences of stepping on too many toes. Honda, a rather competent one in his employ, was a good example of someone who did not like to play nice and share his toys. Masumi started half the time he was an unofficial babysitter for the creatives that made his money.

"Honda?"

"Honda," he said, finding himself giving her a sarcastic, cool grin. Mizuki returned it, adjusting her dark frames with a delicate gesture of her long, manicured talons.

How she worked a keyboard* was beyond him, but he would never bring that up to her. Never mind that he thought that color of green was obnoxious on her. She would retort with a smartass reference to his choice in ties. It wasn't his fault that purple and pink looked good on him.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Schedule me a day off tomorrow, I will need to save face with him and make another round around Yokohama."

"Yes, sir. The meeting ran a bit late, what would you like me to send up for lunch?"

Unbidden, at the mention of food, he thinks of her suddenly, that little girl with the even teeth and the horrendously tiny hands waitressing at a Chinese restaurant. He wonders, briefly, what she had spent her money on. He hopes it had been something nice, perhaps some new shoes? He had noticed that the sneakers she had on had been beyond scuffed, and closer to grey that what he assumed had been originally black. Maybe candy… What do kids even like these days? Maybe she had bought herself a movie on videocassette* of a favorite movie as she seemed to love that kinda a thing so much.

"Miso," he finds himself responding, not noticing the odd look that Mizuki gives him, "I'm in the mood for some miso ramen."

* * *

 **AN:**

 **...**

 **Should I be disturbed that I can write from the perspective of a twenty-three-year-old Japanese man with apathetic tendencies really really quickly? Cause I feel a little concerned. I had only meant to _start_ his damn chapter and I find myself finishing it in under an hour. When I should be studying.**

 **I'm a bad noddle.**

 **Well, to be fair, I am studying the 1970s art movements at the moment, so it kinda fits? I mean the fic and manga are set in the 70s to the later 80s when Maya will be an adult... But I digress. I hope whoever is reading this loved this chapter because I had a hell of a lot of fun writing it. As stated in the chapter posted a few hours ago(gosh me and my muse have to have _words_ ) I'm keeping the point of view alternating. I was going to add a Mizuki excerpt, but I found that she fits better a lot later in the fic, maybe around chapter ten or twelve when Maya and Masumi start interacting more. I also want to point on that I totally on purpose made it so that Maya has a passing mention in this chapter, unlike Masumi being constantly referenced in Maya's chapter. **

**Masumi is an adult male, and even in the manga he really doesn't admit to feeling something other than amusement at Maya's reactions until the incident at the acting comptition where Maya rips into him for ruining the play she has worked so hard in(and also before for critic blasting their little woman). He acts super dismissive towards her until after they meet for the third time- when the kids at the Daito acting house sic dogs on Maya and he protects her. And even then its more an of a distant, oh look there's that girl that Chigusa is obsessed with, what's so damn special about her? She seems really normal. She stood on her tippy toes for how long? Is she touched in the head?**

 **Que Beth scene and he's all like: Holy fucking amazeballs this little girl is fucking crazy what the fuck is the matter with her? She's super insane... But she is trying and loving what's she's doing... PURPLE ROSE to her! There. That's traditional to show I'm a fan right?**

 **Now how can I express how cool she is? Calling her Chibi-chan! Genius. Totally inspired! Here she comes! *Metaphorically pulls on her pigtails like an immature child that has no idea what to do with himself***

 **1*: I always though Mizuki had light sensitivity. I mean she wears those damn glasses even in night scenes and at formal events. It was just head-canon for me.**

 **2*:... I really do think that Masumi reacts really childishly to Maya. Like a little kid pulling a girl's pigtails- half the time, he doesn't understand what to do with himself around her. And though he can fake the social thing I always assumed he is very socially repressed because of his upbringing. Hence him reacting to situations like a toddler and being head over heels with a girl nine years younger than him- because Maya is everything he's not. Driven for her own sake, talented and passionate at something other than cool perfection, young and naive while he feels old and jaded. Which he really isn't, just a lonely boy who grew up in so many ways past his years but didn't in others.**

 **3*: When I refer to the character, no italics. When I refer to the play, italics.**

 **4*: Script rights verse production rights. Script is the content of the play, obviously, while production is the right to perform it. Most sell both of these rights in conjunction or use them interchangeably, but it _can_ be separate. I figure Masumi wouldn't give a damn if he owned the script rights as long as he could make it a Daito production property. Some play rights more or less 'rent' their plays production rights out and keep the rights to the actual script for themselves, controlling when a production can be done. Chisuga owns both rights.**

 **5*: Computers were a thing by the early 70s. Crappy, huge green screen tinted monsters, but totally a thing. Daito has the best of the best, yo!**

 **6*: Of course Masumi fails to realize that though the Home video was a thing at the time, it wasn't really popular until the 1980s, where more people could start affording them and their price dropped drastically. Most players would have cost upwards of a few hundred dollars, even if the cassettes themselves were relatively cheap in comparison depending on what type you got(I still remember how in the early 2000s how a VCR could cost 80 dollars, which is ridiculously steep in comparison to other players we have today). I always figured that Masumi has a sort of disconnection to the wealth gap between him and Maya, until he saw how much she was struggling in later parts of the manga through Maya's not boy toy(I am so sorry, completly forgot his name off the top of my head, it is very long and very Japanese... Something with a S? Sauriyoji-kun? Darn it I cannot remember it) telling him how she was working on the side for tuition for school.**

 **~Happy Reading,**

 **Moon Witch '96**

 **P.S. I will hardly, if ever update so often. The gap between chapter one and chapter two are more of a reasonable estimate for my time frame. My muse just hit me over the head with this for whatever reason.**


	4. A Little Bit Closer

**A Little Bit Closer**

She was in the park on a rare Sunday off from work, hands splayed, mouth wide and dramatically reciting the latest bit of a comedy-drama when a large, sleek car pulled up near them. She stopped, and around her, her usual crowd of kids whined, before turning in interest. She was, after all, staring in completely surprised, mouth slightly open. They all started, blinking at the odd sight. The car is expensive- Maya has never seen anything so shiny other than a few of the newer boats in the marina, and those were few and far between. It is black and vaguely familiar, and odd, completely out of place in her neighborhood. Against the faded and well-worn storefronts and homes, it's like a firefly during dark summer nights.

When a soft brown head pokes out, cigarette in his gloved hand, Maya realized why it was there, blinking in complete surprise. Hayami Masumi steps out of the car expertly lighting a cigarette with a plain, but solid looking silver lighter, a casual flick of his gloved fingers that looks effortless and elegant. Leisurely, he lifts his hand to his face, smoking carefully. He is just as handsome and completely eye-catching in a cool way.

 _Vaguely,_ Maya thinks of _, celebrities, of the polished, perfect people she so admires. And how Hayami-san seems so much like them, only in living, breathing person._

She blinks and before she can even think to consider any rudeness, she is moving his way, waving her arms excitedly and calling out with a loud, happy, "Hayami-san!"

The man turns, surprised, casually letting out a plume of smoke. It curled around his head before it dissolved into the air, the only thing left of it the strong smell of expensive tobacco as she stops in front of him. He is tall- taller then she remembers, makes her crane her neck to look him in the face. She gives a quick, clumsily bow, remembering her manners.

"Chibi-chan!" he said, blinking, a small smile coming on his face, as he gives her a soft nod in response to her bow, "Followed by a bunch of smaller chibis!"

Maya frowned sharply, closing her lips tightly and puffing out her cheeks. Her regular kids circle around the car, cooing and touching the black metal with interest.

"I am not a chibi!"

She stamps her foot in emphasis.

"Yeah! Maya-onee-chan isn't a chibi!" calls Shouta-kun, a small five-year-old that had a soft spot for horror stories, especially a TV show that he was never awake for.

Maya wasn't even sure he had ever seen it- it was a late show, after all, and she always tried to catch it because the neighbors next door adored it, and sometimes, late, when she was working on her homework, they would kindly leave their window open so she can hear it.

"Yeah!" and that's Akane-chan, a nine-year-old who loved a romantic drama that came on every Friday.

Hayami-san just smiles- a hard, sharp thing that is almost unkind.

"Reach here, chibis," he points to his shoulder, "Then I won't call you chibi."

The kids howl and pff, put out, but not being able to say anything towards the tall man.

"Is he your boyfriend?" and that's Akane of course, seeing romance everywhere.

Her eyes are starry and her grin, missing tooth and all, looks approving. The man starts, raising a brow in surprise as Maya turns as red all over.

"No!" she says, scolding the nine-year-old, "Akane-chan you need to stop asking that about every boy you see with me!"

It had become a habit for the younger girl, who at the moment frowned at her.

"But Maya-nee-chan you need a boyfriend, my sister says each girl needs one-"

"I don't need one!"

Nevermind that Maya is painfully aware of how small and plain she is. She is red-faced, eyes sliding to Hayami-san who looks amused at the way the kids start dragging at her arms, her hair. One of the kids tugs at her worn skirt.

"Maya-onee-chan," whispers little Rin, a four-year-old that just _adored_ an anime of fairy tales that came on every Saturday morning, "Please, can you tell me the next part of Snow White?"

"No it's my turn now!" and that's Shouta again, stomping his feet.

"Stop fighting-" she pleads, trying to be stern, but its a half-hearted attempt at best. She is too meek, her mother would say, too passive to make the children stop unless she was storytelling.

The children are children after all, and they chase each other around trying to determine who will have their story finished today. Maya sighs, watching lifting Rin easily on her hip when Shouta went to pull at her thick, curled hair. Akane tries to help keep the peace with little effect.

"What's with the assortments of smaller chibis, Chibi-chan?" asked Hayami-san, and like before, he is asking sincerely like people rarely do to Maya, "Do you like to see smaller people around to feel tall?"

His eyes, dark, firm, are looking at her with a polite, interested look. Maya wonders, why such a man was interested in her of all people. She scowls at the insult, puffing her cheeks in quiet warning, and Hayami-san chuckles softly, his face, still and polite, losing slightly with the soft, warm sound coming from his throat.

"Maya-onee-chan tells us stories!" pipes up Rin, happily, hand's around Maya's thin neck, "She tells the best stories."

"Oh, what type of stories?"

"Lots!" and that's a painfully shy boy named Haru, who was hiding behind her leg. He peeks at the tall man, eyes wide and admiring.

"Just stuff I see on TV," she mumbles, ducking her head, "Most of these kids don't have TVs..."

"That's nice chibi-chan. It seems that you have a good crowd of admirers."

"We love Maya-onee-chan's stories!" affirms Rin, beaming at Hayami-san.

"Maya-chan!" calls out a few voices, and Maya spots a few mothers, coming towards them, smiling.

Maya turns to Hayami-san, giving him another bow.

"Excuse me," she said, quickly as politely as she could.

She rushes over, gripping at hands of the children, herding them towards their mother. A glance at the park's clock, she notes that their time together is already over. Quickly, she bows, at the waist to the gathered mothers, an easy smile coming to her face, even as she flushed.

"Good morning Maya-chan. I'm afraid we're here for our children. Their four hours are up," said Rin's mother, picking up the protesting girl, "And I am sure you wish to spend your Sunday off in peace. Thank you so much for caring for Rin."

She hands her a small box, no doubt filled with some sort of food.

All the children and their mothers say their goodbyes, eyeing Hayami-san curiously, as he watches.

"They don't pay you?"

Maya blinks, looking over her shoulder, arms full of food and other small, inexpensive gifts.

"Why would they?"

Brows furrow.

"Because you're taking care of their children? They're using you chibi-chan."

Maya blinks again, before looking down at her worn, dirty shoes.

"It's okay. I can tell stories… And I don't think they can afford a babysitter. They're always working and if I can help, all the better."

When she looks up, Hayami-san is staring at her, brows raised high on his face. She flushes at his surprised face, biting her lip.

"What?"

"Are you from this planet chibi-chan?"

He bursts into loud, uncontrollable laughter. She blinks before she pouts.

"Of course I am! You're impossible Hayami-san!" she screeches, turning to run away.

"Wait!"

She pauses mid-stop looking back at the disagreeable man. He is smiling, cheeks slightly flushed from his rude laughing fit.

"What else would you recommend at your restaurant?"

She blinks before she beams.

"The tofu stir-fry!"

"Thanks, chibi-chan. Now go enjoy your Sunday."


	5. AUTHOR'S NOTE, please read!

**Okay, I know I haven't updated this in a long time, and for that, I want to apologize. I am one of those's writers who hate posting a whole chapter as an author's note, but I felt as if I had no choice. As of now, this story, and the majority of my stories for that matter are under major reconstruction. I feel I need to give reassurances to all those who favorited, followed or reviewed this that it won't be left behind. To be honest, I've been debating which stories to take down on my profile, a purge if you will of all the fanfictions I know I won't be updating. I have a bad habit of uploading something as soon as I finish it, and I think it really shows in some of these earlier chapters. I really think I am a better writer now, and I wish to extend that to all my fanfictions that I want to finish. So, yes this story is going to be edited and revamped! When I finish is really unknown at this point, as I am pretty much redoing most if not all of my stories at this point. The list of those fanfictions, in no particular order, is:**

 _ **Blooming Again,**_ _ **Coming Home,**_ _ **The Little Stark,**_ _ **Eventide,**_ _ **The Great Mouse Detective 2,**_ _ **Lion-Heart,**_ _ **The Sweetly Sung Queen,**_ _ **Broken Seams,**_ _ **Will of a Flower, Will of a Spiral,**_ _ **Rebel, Rebel,**_ _ **Shades of Blue,**_ _ **The Language of Flowers,**_ ** _She Is But The Wind,_** _ **Benthic,**_ _ **In Which,**_ _ **Allies.**_

 **For the most part, I won't be publishing new chapters for my fanfictions, expect for these fanfictions: _The Sweetly Sung Queen, Lion-Heart, She is But the Wind, & Coming Home. _As soon as I upload a new chapter, or I finish all of my edits, I will be deleting this chapter from this story. Any questions, feel free to PM me, and I thank you all for your patience.**

 **~Happy Reading,**

 **Moon Witch '96**


End file.
